Thursday, September 24, 2015

I Hear The Sweetest Birds Singing, Even In The Rain

It is gently raining and I was so tired last night I can't even remember my dreams although every now and then an image will float past me and if I try to grasp it, it slithers away, a snake-fish in a sea of grass.
I don't want to remember them anyway.

Sometimes I think that my shell is way too thin and that with stress and worry it becomes even thinner until it is worn almost away, the opposite of the cicada's process. The smallest things become huge in my mind- the sending of mail, the making of a meal, the meeting-up with even the people I love the most. I am overwhelmed with feeling old, with feeling ugly, with feeling inadequate, with, let's face it- all feelings.

Perhaps I am just waiting on this baby, even as I do not feel any rushing need for him to arrive. I know he is happy where he is and he is finishing up creating all of his systems and becoming sweet and fat-cheeked while his mother's womb tunes up and strengthens with the Braxton-Hicks contractions, all doing as it should.

Perhaps there have just been too many tests for my husband and I, like the sin-eater, must eat the worry while he concerns himself as a normal human should, with what lies before him. The moving of our children, his business, his plans for hunting, the repair of this, the fixing of that. The older we grow, the more he astounds me and the more I wish I could have been a woman who could more match him in spirit and in heart instead of so frequently falling apart and moving to a place in my mind where he cannot go.
I remember once when my mother talked about the abuse I suffered, a rare, rare occasion for her to mention it. She said, "This has probably affected your marriage, hasn't it?"
I could not even begin to tell her. It was so bizarre and absurd that she finally realized (maybe?) the far-reaching ways that yes, it has affected even my marriage.

Well. The rain falls. I need to go to town again. Life never stops until it does. And I suppose I need to give myself a break. What are the top stressors in life? Illness, moving, babies being born? Something like that.
And although none of them are happening to me, they are all happening to my heart's closest.

And I need to remember that my shell, my skin, is truly a rough old hide, not the delicate rose-petal I feel it is sometimes.

All I have to do is keep moving forward, accept that which is and take into my hands that which needs to be done.

Rain can be such a comfort when these feelings come upon us. I am so sorry you are feeling like this today, and yet you also give me a gift by letting me know I am not alone, because I am feeling these things, too. But my love, you are the woman to match that wonderful man of yours, I promise you he knows it, as do we all. One breath at a time today, just one breath and then the next. Sometimes, especially when it is raining outside, that is enough.

Ditto on all the thoughts here. I often wonder how a man like mine can be so strong and staunch, while I fall apart again and again. Perhaps it's just a sweet grace we've been given. But-we are enough anyways, you and me and all the others who'll chime in here.

I feel this way so often the past few years. I have no abuse in my childhood. I do have stress in my adulthood. Maybe stress of all kinds makes us fragile. I joke with my husband that I am "a delicate flower" but inside I feel sad that I am not stronger. When I have to do something, I do it, but not a minute before. And I kind of collapse afterward. I take encouragement from your words: "All I have to do is keep moving forward, accept that which is and take into my hands that which needs to be done." Maybe it is possible to become stronger? I don't know.

When I have my times of depression, angst, worry, and general worthlessness, and am swooning in my bed with tears barely in check, sometimes I hear my dear hubby outside trimming trees, or mowing, or weed eating. For some reason that makes me feel even more worthless. We're both lucky to have men who, even if they don't understand us, they love and forgive us anyway. Peace and light to you today, Ms. Moon!

I know I've been dreaming but these days I have no memories of them, not even a snake-fish in a sea of grass. and the only thing I am waiting for is a down payment check to begin a job that I'm not excited about doing.

Your talk of moons, Moon and shells reminds me of these verses from the Yeats poem, one of which is the title of my blog. The poem "Adam's Curse" is about work -- and life, I think -- and perfectly relevant to all that you cover so beautifully here. (And I have to disagree that you are no match for your husband in spirit. I can't imagine that this is true, even remotely).

We sat grown quiet at the name of love; We saw the last embers of daylight die, And in the trembling blue-green of the sky A moon, worn as if it had been a shell Washed by time’s waters as they rose and fell About the stars and broke in days and years.

I had a thought for no one’s but your ears: That you were beautiful, and that I strove To love you in the old high way of love;That it had all seemed happy, and yet we’d grown As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.

Gail- I feel certain that Mr. Moon's heart is fine and soon, Jessie will bear proof my belief that her baby boy is too. Oh! I can't wait!

Angella- Yes. One breath at a time. And as I have always told my husband, no matter what- there is no one on earth who could love him as much for exactly who he is. And isn't that what we all want? At least he knows that. And I make him biscuits sometimes. I do my best. I love you.

Ashley- I wonder how many of us feel this way? These fellows are our blessings.

liv- Well, the birthing gods will do what they will. I did have an extremely fun conversation with the post master today.

jenny_o- I wonder why we feel so weak when obviously, we do as much as we can and often under difficult circumstances. All part of that horrible negative self-talk, I guess. We do go on. I don't know if we get stronger or not. It doesn't feel as if I do.

Catrina- I am sorry you have these days/these feelings too. I really am.

Jill- Thank you! That made me cry a little.

Ellen Abbott- Oh gosh. Well, I hope the check makes the work worthwhile. I really do.

Elizabeth- Okay. Weeping. Thank you. How do you do this? Know the perfect poem every time? I love you.

Funnily enough, I am feeling both anxious and tired today and you're right, the childhood stuff affects everything, a legacy we never shake. I am fortunate that I can simply go to bed, which is where I'm headed. I hope you have wonderful baby joy soon.

Oh Mary... I feel like you are my soul sister. We have been down some of the same roads it seems. Your writing is healing for me and it helps me understand that I am not alone. I feel many of the same feelings you describe. Just know that Lisa from Michigan loves you and looks forward to your posts. I rarely comment but trust me I read them everyday. I send warm positive thoughts for you and your family. They sound awesome!

My shell is tough but the inner core is sensitive. I work on that---to not take things personally and to realize that many people walk around in a haze of unknowing. I don't know your pain, but do know that so much affects our relationships with others. How can it not?

I try very hard to answer every comment I get. This is important to me because otherwise, it's not a dialogue. Sometimes life gets busy and I can't, but I do try.
Please e-mail me for any reason whatsoever at mmerluna@aol.com